Keep in Touch
by zigzagwarbler
Summary: AU. Kurt has never had a massage. Blaine happens to give them for a living. Follows canon except that a Blaine never showed up in Kurt's life, and b Kurt and Rachel both go to NYC after graduating.
1. Chapter 1

"What do you mean you've never had a spa day?" Rachel gapes at Kurt, disbelief etched into her features. "Oh my God, Kurt, how can you truly lay claim to the title of diva if you have never enjoyed the pampering

Her pitch rises until Kurt has to resist the urge to clap his hands over his ears to drown her out. "Rachel! Rachel! First of all - I'm not laying claim to any titles. And second - where exactly in _Lima_ would you recommend an openly gay teenager go to get a massage?"

"Well, you're not in Lima anymore, and you're almost not a teenager. I'm taking it upon myself to fix this situation." Rachel is already thumbing through her phone, with that special Rachel Berry Is Getting Things Done look that she has. "We are going to have a spa day like no other, Kurt Hummel. And it is going to rock your world."

It's not like Kurt's opposed to the pampering. He's up for trying any new facial at home, sinking money into skin care and products, spends hours styling and primping - but there's still some part of him that just can't fathom the idea of someone's hands on him.

He's turning twenty years old in a month. He's been in New York for a year.

He's gone on two dates. The first ended with a hug and a promise to call that was never fulfilled. The second lasted an hour; Kurt had felt strange enough going into a club but the feel of the boy's hand trying to shove down his pants had made the world shrink down somehow. He'd fled the club struggling to breathe and stopped halfway home to cry, feeling miserable and like a failure in the world of romance. Even Rachel Berry has managed to log a couple of one-night stands in their days of college thrill.

Kurt Hummel is utterly untouched, pristine and virginal, and he's not sure that he wants the first hands that stroke over his skin to be attached to a charge on his debit card.

Unfortunately, his pride won't let him explain all of that to Rachel, and he just nods and resigns himself to it when she announces chirpily over brunch that she's made the appointments.

Rachel doesn't even notice his hesitation as she lays out plans for the day. She has a brightly colored pamphlet from the spa they're going to, with little pink star stickers by the things she wants to do. "First we start off with our facials, then hour long Swedish massages, pause for lunch - there's a little cafe right across the street that we can order in from and they'll deliver it right to us! then in the afternoon we finish up with manis and pedis."

"Are you sure you want to devote all day to this, Rachel? Because if we just skip the massage it looks like we could finish up _before_ lunch." Kurt gives another attempt at dissuading her, thinking maybe they can meet in the middle.

"Oh, but Kurt, the massage is the highlight of the day! The facial, while fantastic I'm sure, is just the opening act. I booked us the eighty minute massages - this is all for you, Kurt."

"How are you even paying for this?" He thinks maybe he can appeal to her pocketbook. Neither of them are swimming in spare cash, only able to work part time in an effort to devote enough toward honing the craft with as many theater groups and performances as they can. NYADA is a million times more competitive than glee club, but even with financial aid they do need money to live on - money for the necessities in life, like food and last minute broadway tickets. Rachel is a ticket taker at a small theater near their housing unit, and Kurt works at a coffee shop. There's no way she should be able to afford any kind of spa day.

"Oh, that was easy. I told my Dads you've never been and they understood what an absolute travesty that was, so they're footing the bill. You can send them a thank you coffee basket. They like dark roast." Rachel blithely shoots down his last attempt at worming his way out of it.

"You really are nervous, aren't you?" Rachel asks. They're in the lounge room at the spa, waiting for someone to come and greet them. They'll be given a place to change into thick, cushy robes and then taken for the facials.

Any other time, Kurt would be thrilled at the idea of a facial... but since it comes before the massage, all he can focus on are his nerves.

When Kurt doesn't respond, Rachel reaches over and pats his arm delicately. "It'll be fine."

"Ms. Berry, Mr. Hummel?" A pert, petite girl with a clipboard approaches and shakes their hand. She's dressed nicely, not a hair out of place, but the smile on her face is genuine. "Follow me."

The robe is nice, and the room smells amazing - faintly spicy, like incense, but dull enough to not make his head swim. Two of the walls are fountains and the sound of water rushing down makes his heart rate slow a little bit.

The facial is nice, and the girl doing it compliments him on his perfect skin. He can't help but puff up a little at that - he's earned that compliment, he's had a skin care regimen since he hit his preteen years - before, if you count sitting on the bathroom counter watching his mother put on lotions and demanding she do the same to him. He smiles at the memory, one of the last remaining ones he has that seem crisp and perfectly clear to recall. He shuts his eyes and for just a moment it could be her patting cream onto his cheeks.

He opens his eyes and Rachel's looking at him with a pleased smile on her face. She doesn't talk, not wanting to interrupt the process, but her smile says it all.

Kurt smiles back. Maybe this isn't so bad.

This is definitely so bad.

He's sitting in the lounge area again, a cup of tea in his hand that he sips on while they're waiting on the massage therapists. "I'm just going to go," he says, sitting up. He puts the tea cup on the little table beside him. "You enjoy the massage, and I'll be back for the mani and the pedi."

"No!" Rachel looks shocked and dismayed. "You can't just leave!"

"Rachel, I'm just not-"

The door opens and in walks a girl whose name tag reads Arissa. The girl reminds Kurt a little of Tina Cohen-Chang - round face and sweet smile.

Maybe, Kurt thinks, this isn't so bad. He can handle this. Sure, she'll be touching his body, but she's - well, she's a girl.

Arissa looks straight at Rachel. "Hi there! You can just follow me into the massage room. Kurt, you'll be with Blaine - he's on his way right now."

Arissa and Rachel both leave. Rachel looks over her shoulder and gives him an excited wink. Kurt manages an awkward smile back but he isn't sure how his misery isn't painted all over his face right now.

A guy. He's going to be rubbed all over by a guy.

He could still leave. There is still time. He can make up some excuse so that she doesn't know what a wreck he is over this, and how badly his irrational fear of being touched by a stranger is getting to him.

Maybe it'll be a girl, he thinks. Maybe it's not too late - Rachel said she'd arranged it all, and Kurt realizes now that he should have been more forceful, because Rachel is entirely the type to think she's doing him a favor by requesting a guy.

He's almost convinced himself to stand when the door opens and in walks someone that, on any other day and in any other place, would make Kurt absolutely swoon. Pale olive skin, a soft mouth, hair that's curling over his forehead despite the obvious attempt at gelling it into place.

He's an absolute dream and right now Kurt just wants to throw up a little.

"Hi, I'm Blaine." Blaine holds out his hand and it takes Kurt a few seconds to jolt to his feet, thrusting his hand out too. Blaine's handshake is firm and his skin is so soft. "You okay there?"

"What? Yes. I... uh. This is my first massage. I've never-"

Blaine nods understandingly. "It's fine. I'll walk you through it. Come on, let me show you the room."

Kurt trails behind him, listening through the pounding of blood rushing through his ears as Blaine explains that he's going to give Kurt a moment to get comfortable and take the robe off, then telling him what position to take on the table. The door closes with a click behind Blaine and Kurt rushes to get situated, leaving his underwear on.

There's a soft knock on the door.

"Y-yes! I'm ready." Kurt calls out, wondering if Blaine can even hear him.

Blaine steps back in. His voice is warm and soft, modulated to be calming, Kurt thinks - it's... it's nice. Sexy.

He's exactly the kind of guy Kurt has always dreamed would put his hands all over Kurt - only in his dreams there's never monetary compensation involved.

The lights go even more dim and soft music starts to play while Blaine speaks. "If there are any areas you want me to focus on, or if you want more or less pressure anywhere, just let me know."

The impossibly soft, lush blanket draped over Kurt gets shifted aside at the end, around his feet. He hears a cap snapping open and then warm hands are lifting one heel and squeezing. Kurt lets out a soft gasp of surprise when Blaine strokes his thumbs firmly up the arch of Kurt's foot.

Blaine laughs gently, a sound that wraps around Kurt even though he doesn't see it. He keeps his eyes locked straight ahead, open sometimes and sometimes drifting shut, while Blaine does magical things to Kurt's feet. He bites back another noise when Blaine starts to stroke higher with his hands, up Kurt's leg. A thrill goes through Kurt but to his relief it's nothing strong enough to cause arousal - it would be, maybe (definitely) if not for the nerves churning through him still, but that's the last thing he'd want to happen right now.

Blaine says nothing through the entire process, moving from one leg to the other at one point. Kurt keeps wondering if he should talk, if talking is something you DO during one of these, or if it's supposed to be silent. Nervous chatter is not uncommon for him but in the dark, in the quiet of this room, with this man's hands on him... he's terrified of what might come out of his mouth.

So he doesn't. He stays quiet, and just lets himself... relax. He isn't even aware of how much time passes before Blaine has worked his way up to Kurt's shoulders, standing behind him. A hand cups the back of his neck and he breathes in harder than he intends. His eyes flick upward and he catches a glimpse of Blaine's face in the dark room, tongue peeking out caught between his teeth, face a picture of concentration. He catches Kurt watching him and smiles a little, fingers digging into a particularly tense spot. Kurt barely has time to react before Blaine is guiding his head to the side and stroking down over his chest, not going past the barrier of the blanket but rubbing against his shoulder and then down his arm.

Kurt is beginning to think maybe the pleasure of the touch will win out over nerves after all when Blaine asks him to turn onto his stomach. Kurt is filled with relief, not exactly thrilled to have a hard on threatening any any point but infinitely more okay with it if he's not laying on his back where it would be obvious.

Blaine's hands are slicker again when they come back to him, and the scent of the massage oil is stronger again. Blaine starts to rub his back and it feels sinfully good. He doesn't have to worry about where to look, doesn't have to worry about anything - just enjoys the rest of the time and lets his mind drift to how this would feel if it they were in a bedroom...

He feels a stab of regret when Blaine's hands move away. "Our time is up," Blaine says. His voice seems deeper now; Kurt figures probably because he hasn't spoken in an hour. "You're welcome to the shower, there's a variety of shampoos, soaps, and moisturizers to choose from plus clean towels right there, and I'll be waiting with some water for you when you're done."

"Thanks," Kurt says. He stays laying down expecting to hear the door shut and he's surprised when he feels Blaine's hand on his back first, palm between his shoulder blades stroking down just a little.

And then he's gone.

Kurt comes out of the room twenty minutes later, showered and clean. Blaine's sitting on one of the couches and Kurt's breath almost catches. Somehow he looks even more gorgeous now that Kurt isn't about to throw up from nerves.

Okay, it still isn't ideal, but Kurt will be jerking off to the feel of warm strong fingers digging into his skin for months he's sure, and right now he can't quite regret the experience.

Blaine looks up and smiles. He has a glass of water he hands to Kurt. Their fingers brush and Kurt can't help but smile.

"You'll need to drink plenty of water today. If you want more after that glass, you're welcome to just grab a bottle from the cooler right over there." He gestures to a refrigerator that's decorated to blend with the cabinets around them.

"Thank you," Kurt says, almost wincing at how breathless he sounds.

He's not sure if he's supposed to stay or go. He's not sure Iwhere/I to go if he is supposed to go.

"So," Blaine says, grinning a little. God, Kurt marvels, how is he so gorgeous? "How was it? I don't actually get many people in that have never had a massage before."

"It was very..." Hot. "Relaxing."

Blaine beams at him. "Well, that's what it's supposed to be. You were pretty tense, you know. You should come back in... maybe in a couple weeks. Here, this is my card - the number is just the spa reception desk one, but if you come back ask for me again. Just call about a week in advance - I'm usually booked up a week out."

Kurt takes the card, looking down at the bolded name on the pale blue card. Blaine Anderson. "Yes... I will. Th-Thank you."

Blaine just smiles at him for a moment longer and then steps back. "Come on, I think your friend is already in the salon room."

There's no one else around, just Rachel with her feet propped up and a magazine in her hands. "Kurt!" She squeals when she sees him. "How was it?"

Kurt drops into the chair beside Rachel like all of his bones have suddenly turned to cooked spaghetti. "I think I'm in love."

Rachel laughs and claps her hands together. "I know it. Isn't it the best? Oh, my dads will be so proud. I kept telling you there was no reason to be so skittish about this and you have absolutely floated past it. This is truly a milestone in the awakening of the young gay male."

"Rachel, you do realize you aren't actually a gay man yourself, don't you?" Kurt says, voice dry. "But, fine, it wasn't so bad."

Rachel looks at him expectantly.

"Fine, it was amazing." Kurt says.

He's saved from having to go into it more by the manicurist showing up.

An hour and a half later, they're heading out. Kurt lingers while Rachel pays, hoping for a glimpse of Blaine.

He's pretty surprised to actually get one. Blaine walks toward them, and Kurt's stomach does a little roll.

"Heading out?" He asks Kurt. "I hope you enjoyed your day here.

Kurt doesn't notice the double take Rachel does.

"Yes, it was... very... relaxing."

Blaine laughs. "Good. Glad we did our job. And don't forget... if you want to come back..." His smile deepens and he reaches out, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Just ask for me."

"I will," Kurt says, voice faint. "And thank you."

"I tipped well," Rachel says, as they walk out and toward the corner. "Just so you know."

"That's good." Kurt's lost in his own thoughts.

"So was that..." She glances back.

"Yep." Kurt gives her a look that.

She looks thrilled. "He is an absolute dreamboat! And he was making cute eyes at you!"

"Cute eyes-" Kurt rolls his own eyes. "He probably just wanted to make sure that we tipped well."

"Well." Rachel looks entirely too pleased with herself. "I did.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel won't stop talking about the massage guy.

It gets to the point where Kurt starts to reply in a genuinely bitchy way - only Rachel knows him, and knows that bitch is a bit of a default setting for Kurt, and that combined with his inherent touch of obliviousness to all people around her means she just doesn't get it.

She doesn't get the way his face turns red and he gets shifty every time. She doesn't know that he went home after that first day and jerked off in his room thinking of warm honey eyes and a perfect mouth.

She doesn't know at all that he'd never had a guy besides Karofsky put hands on him anyway. She knows about Karofsky, but as much as Kurt loves her Rachel reacted the same way as everyone else in New Directions to that. Once Karofsky stopped physically shoving him around, the problem was solved to them. None of them saw the way Karofsky's eyes followed Kurt everywhere he went, none of them knew about the way Karofsky would grab and manhandle him when no one else was around.

He sort of lets himself off the hook when it comes to rampant fantasizing, given that the only person that has shown direct interest in him was Karofsky. He's a guy, he still has needs. And thoughts. And hands. And that'll do.

(iIf you tell anyone I'll kill you./I)

After a couple of days, Rachel gives up. Well, not so much gives up as gets distracted. Kurt is sure within the week she'll have settled on trying to fix Kurt up with someone else.

He's relieved that Rachel lets it drop, but Kurt spends the next week devoting an embarrassing amount of time to thinking about Blaine Anderson.

A search on facebook brings up seven profiles in NYC. It doesn't take him long to find the right one, but the profile is locked down. All Kurt can see are a couple of stupid polls (he definitely doesn't file away that Blaine prefers Spiderman to Batman) it is the profile picture; Blaine in jeans and a t-shirt, hair a little longer than when Kurt had met him, chunky black glasses on his face.

Kurt's heart is pounding as he saves Blaine's profile picture to his desktop, in a folder he names Mystery. Then he rethinks and sticks it in his homework folder, under a tree of different assignments, like if he hides it well enough it won't matter.

Except that he can't bring himself to close out of it, because that smile that's lighting up Blaine's face makes Kurt feel like he swallowed sunshine and he can't help but smile stupidly back.

Another week passes. He keeps Blaine's card in his wallet, spotting it every time he pulls out his debit card to swipe it. Sometimes it makes him smile; sometimes it catches him off guard, and he feels so stupid for reacting so strongly to a bit of paper.

Twice he takes it out with the intention of dropping it into the trash. Twice, he puts it back into his wallet.

He knows he's being ridiculous.

He checks Blaine's facebook account definitely no more than twice a week.

Fine. Twice a day.

He's had crushes before. They come on strong then fade away. He'll get distracted, forget. It's not even like a real crush. He doesn't know a single thing about Blaine Anderson.

(Except how his hands feel stroking over Kurt's skin.)

Three weeks out. He's taken Blaine's business card out of his wallet and dropped it into a desk drawer. He's very proud of himself and that's why he doesn't feel too bad about logging into facebook. He doesn't have to type more than the Bl before the name it automatically pops up.

There's something new on his wall. An event - some guy's birthday, something Blaine has RSVP'd to that has escaped the gnarled privacy settings for the website. Curiosity drives Kurt as he clicks and sees that it's at a club not too far away from the school.

The next night.

He deliberates and by the next afternoon he's decided to forget about it completely.

Then Rachel bounces in. "We should go out!" Her voice is chipper as always. She does this every weekend, and ends up dragging Kurt to some karaoke bar, and sometimes it's fun. Kurt isn't a hermit, he's not a shrinking violet, he likes being around other people. He doesn't even mind flirting over a drink (even if his is usually non-alcoholic, because he doesn't trust what would come with alcohol, hates the idea that someone could touch him when he isn't entirely in control).

So Kurt spends an hour putting together an absolutely fabulous outfit and doing his hair, then whirls out to find Rachel waiting. "Where did you have in mind?"

Rachel rattles off the name of a bar.

One that happens to be about two doors down from the club that one Mr. Blaine Anderson has RSVP'd at.

The gay club Blaine Anderson has RSVP'd at. Kurt's not dumb. It's a party, someone invited him, that doesn't mean that Blaine is gay any more than it means Rachel is a lesbian when she attends pride events with Kurt. There are just as many LGBT supporters as they are actually gay people, which is a wonderful thing, and Blaine being at a gay club means nothing.

But Kurt isn't going to think about his stupid crush, so he ignores that the very best way he knows how. (Badly.)

It's going on ten and Rachel is wailing away on stage. She's been making eyes at some guy she met at the bar for hours and now they've started dueling karaoke, trading off on songs.

Kurt can tell things are heating up by the song choice on both sides. It amuses him to no end how Rachel can wield music into anything she wants; even - maybe especially - a come on. It sort of fits for her, and Kurt likes it.

But he's not drinking, and it's a straight bar, and it's kind of boring. Kurt loves the nights where he meets a new friend - usually a girl - and can spend the whole night gabbing away about fashion or theater or design. Tonight, the options are slim and he finds himself painfully bored.

He pulls his phone out and sends Rachel a text, letting her know that he's heading home. She won't care; they've been here for hours already. She probably won't even check it until she's forced to take a drink break.

He does intend on going home. He really does. But when he steps out into the cool air, leaving the pounding music behind him dulled to a faint throb in his ears, his feet decide to take him somewhere else.

Teenage Dream.

Kurt has walked past it a dozen times, but almost all in the light of day, when it just looks like... a building. A normal building with the neon sign off that looks just like every other building on the street.

Right now it's looks terrifying to Kurt, but he goes in anyway. It's an 18+ bar so he doesn't even have to worry about his fake ID (the one Rachel had told him was absolutely necessary to their fitting into the wild night life on the great white way), just slips inside.

He's been in gay clubs before, but not since the awful date and they still sort of make his skin crawl. He feels painfully alone in the moment so he heads to the bar because that just seems like what he should be doing. He orders a ginger ale and turns around with his back against the bar to wait for it. The club is crowded and even if Blaine Anderson is here, Kurt probably wouldn't run into him. The knowledge settles heavily in his stomach, a mix of relief and disappointment.

He takes his drink and slides a five across the bar. He hangs there for five minutes, draining the small cup and then deciding that this is an absolutely idiotic thing to be doing.

He decides to head to the bathroom them leave, go home like he'd told Rachel he was doing in the first place. It takes him a minute to find the bathrooms, pushing through crowds. He lets out a snarly grunt of annoyance when he hears obvious noises coming from one of the stalls, and decides the urinals are probably more sanitary anyway - less chance of accidentally touching anything.

He takes care of it quickly and washes his hands thoroughly, reaffirming that this is his least favorite part of going out to clubs. The places Rachel chooses are normally a little higher class than this, and Kurt has always been just fine with her being the director of their would-be social calendar. Most of the time they're too busy rehearsing, working and studying to have too much free time, anyway.

He pushes his way out and runs smack into someone. He notices the outfit first, since his head had been down - his eyes land on a ridiculous bowtie with little musical notes, a black vest with a t-shirt on underneath, and red pants and definitely stand out in a crowd. Then the guy starts to talk and Kurt's head jerks up and he's staring right at that mouth that's been regularly making appearances in Kurt's dreams. Kurt can't see his eyes beyond the pink glasses that clash horribly with the rest of his outfit, but he doesn't need to, he already knows who this is. "Sorry, man," Blaine says. "Oh, hey! I know you!"

The guy - Blaine, iBLAINE!/i - is still close enough that Kurt can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Y-yes, I was-"

"You came in for a massage - what was your name again? Oh, shit, wait, Joey! Hold- damn, he's gone. Uh, so, hi." Blaine doesn't even seem to realize that he's still grasping Kurt's arms where he'd ready out to steady himself after they'd run into each other.

People push around them trying to get to the bathrooms. "We're in the middle of the hallway," Kurt points out, his voice coming out more brusque than he'd wanted.

"What? Oh! Yeah. Look, I gotta go find Joe-" He says it like Kurt would even know who Joe is. His fingers dig into Kurt's arms briefly and he looks like he wants to say more but then he's gone.

Kurt feels numb as he makes his way through the club. When he'd imagined running into Blaine, that was about the opposite of how he'd wanted it to go. Stupidly, childishly, he feels like crying.

He lashes out at the throng of people dancing, shoving his way through in a way that most of them don't even notice. The music seems too loud now and it smells like smoke and sweat inside the club and he just wants fresh air and his bed.

He's almost to the door when a hand grabs his arm. "Hey, you leaving? Were you here alone?"

"Uh." Kurt definitely has a deer in the headlights look. "I came out with my friend Rachel, but she-"

"Oooh," Blaine gets a knowing look in his eyes. "Well, good for her."

"Well, not here," he says. "The Lyric Lounge. Karaoke. I just came over here because I got bored."

He really hopes his voice isn't quite as high pitched as he feels like it is.

"Well, my friends are having an epic pool tournament in the back with a couple of the dancers and I am so not coordinated enough for that right now, so come on. You can keep me company, I'll buy you a drink," Blaine says.

Kurt's heart stops when he feels Blaine's hand in his, even if it's just for the purpose of not losing him across the floor. Blaine takes them to the bar, the far end of it where there are a couple of free stools.

"What are you having?" Blaine asks, turning to try and flag down the bartender. Kurt greedily looks him over, the way when Blaine turns his shirt lifts up a little, the way his shirt is dampened at the back of the neck with sweat and his hair curls against his skin.

"Ginger ale," Kurt says, then feels stupid because if that doesn't send out a large glaring UNDERAGE sign then he doesn't know what will. Blaine's birth date is blocked out on his profile, too, and Kurt has always been bad at judging age.

But Blaine doesn't say anything, just orders a beer for himself and Kurt's ginger ale. "So," Blaine says, turning back to Kurt. "Wow. I can't believe I just ran into you like this. It's crazy, but I've never actually just ran into a client before! I mean, I've only been working there like, not quite three months? But it's crazy!"

His voice is exuberant, and Kurt tells himself that the enthusiasm just comes from the alcohol he's obviously consumed in great amounts. "Yeah, crazy," Kurt says, forcing a smile.

Blaine tilts his head and looks at him. "Something wrong?"

"What?" Kurt sits up straighter, frowning. "No, why?"

"You just look tense. You were... tense," Blaine says, and his smile doesn't waver but his voice does a funny thing that does equally funny things to Kurt's insides. "Sorry, I guess it's like, unprofessional? I shouldn't talk about it outside of work?"

"Well, considering you're talking about it with me, I think it's all right," Kurt says, laughing, genuinely wanting to ease the sudden worry on Blaine's face.

"Oh! That makes sense. Well, then - you were really tense. Like, super tense. You should totally come in and let me give you another massage. Or-" Blaine starts to say something and cuts himself off. "Like, I wouldn't mind."

"I'm sure you wouldn't, I saw how much you charge." The minute the words leave Kurt's mouth he wishes he could take them back. The bitch-voice is like a default nervous setting for him but the way Blaine's face falls makes Kurt feel absolutely awful. "It was worth it, though. It felt... really good."

That makes Blaine smile a little again. "Good. You were nice to... touch. I mean, I get a lot of people in that I am just like, really, is it worth the money, but-"

Kurt reaches over and claps his hand over Blaine's mouth. "Okay, now I think you might be nearing that line of unprofessionalism."

Of course, putting his hand on Blaine's mouth has the unexpected side effect of being able to feel the softness of Blaine's lips and the warmth of his breath. Kurt pulls his hand back and his palm feels damper than before and he has ridiculous thoughts like, was his palm sweaty before? Did he just rub palm sweat on Blaine's mouth? But Blaine is just laughing and he doesn't seem to mind. "You're right. When I drink, my mouth just runs away with me. So you... don't?"

He nods down at Kurt's cup.

"Not since high school," Kurt says, and that is definitely not a story he's planning on going into right now. Maybe one day he'll catch back up with his peer group on the alcohol consumption front, but considering he's got a year to go before he's even legal yet he's in no hurry.

"My buddies drag me out here," Blaine says, and Kurt isn't entirely shocked, because he really had known there was a good chance that Blaine wasn't gay (and really, him being straight would make the fantasies much less real and much more manageable, so it's a good thing, it is). "Not exactly my ideal place to pick up people."

"And what is your ideal place?" Kurt asks, curious for no reason at all, definitely not because Blaine just played the pronoun game.

Blaine shrugs, and then grins slyly. "I shouldn't say work, right?"

Kurt gapes and then squawks, "Unprofessional!"

Blaine's laugh is rich and loud. "I'm just kidding, I swear. I have never once picked up anyone after giving them a massage at work. I swear. Even if I wanted to."

His eyes meet Kurt's and Kurt definitely absolutely has to pretend that he isn't seeing anything in that gaze, because if he lets himself think it's real then it'll just be that much more crushing when Blaine's magical blonde tanned perfect fashion model girlfriend that he has lots of heterosexual sex with shows up out of nowhere.

But then Blaine puts his hand on Kurt's hand and gives him a smile that's a little less open, a little more private, like it's just for Kurt. "I was really hoping you'd make another appointment."

And that's about the third time Blaine has said that to him, and it terrifies him even more each time. "Was I really that tense?"

Blaine laughs again, leaning in and resting his chin on his palm, elbow on the bar. He's turned toward Kurt and he looks at him speculatively. "Well, yeah."

"Then... maybe I will." Kurt says.

"Or I could just-" Blaine starts to say and Kurt has never wanted to hear the rest of a sentence more in his life, but he doesn't get to, because a group of people descend upon Blaine like he's been missing for years. One guy hangs over his shoulder, on leans into him, one reaches across to steal his beer, and a cute little blonde perches on his lap. "Lauren! Come on!"

"Did Blaine-y find a new friend?" The dark haired guy coos, stumbling a little.

"I think he was trying to," the blonde says, perfectly comfortable sharing Blaine's space.

"We'll go away again if you buy a round, B!" Someone says. Someone very close to Kurt's ear.

Kurt is suddenly aware that someone is behind him too and his heart starts to pound, knowing logically that this is not high school and someone standing behind him doesn't mean imminent pain, but he still feels lightheaded and suddenly claustrophobic.

"I need to go," Kurt says, getting up quickly.

He wants to think that Blaine's face falls but he doesn't honestly give it more than a glance before he's walking away as quickly as he can.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt's stumbling, pushing through people, just wanting out. His eyes are burning and he can't believe this, he thought he'd had this under control, thought he'd gotten past this sort of freak out.

He makes his way home and he's never been more relieved to find the tiny apartment empty. He can drop down onto his bed and just try to forget the night ever happened, try to forget stupid warm eyes and a sweet smile and the feel of Blaine's lips against his palm and try to forget that there are other ways this could have turned out, because the truth is that he's Kurt Hummel and nights don't end like that for him.

Except that he doesn't forget at all. He wakes up the next morning hard and tingling from phantom kisses and quickly fading images of a man on his knees, Kurt's fingers tangled in thick hair. He has his hand on himself before he can really start to separate dream from reality but once it all sinks in his erection goes soft and he feels like he's going to be ill.

He tries to go back to sleep but once he's awake his mind won't shut off. He looks at his phone, thinks about calling his dad or Mercedes. His father wouldn't understand - would try, but would fail, and it would end in awkwardness, but sometimes that's okay because his dad just trying makes Kurt feel better sometimes.

Mercedes would want details; she'd want to dish. She'd tell him get his scrawny white boy ass back to that club and get him some. He smiles just hearing her voice in his head but he doesn't dial the number because a year has put distance between them and she's slipped into the space of someone he can't call at 8 am on a Saturday anymore. She's got a boyfriend, she's got a job, she's got a life and lately Kurt knows more about it from Facebook than he does from her.

And maybe she thinks the same thing about him, and that makes him sad, but he's happy for her, too. She'd asked him to come to Los Angeles with her after they graduated - but Kurt doesn't want to be just a singer or just an actor. Kurt wants the stage, and he'd followed his dreams because dreams were what kept him going that awful last year at McKinley. Dreams and glee and hours spent planning with Rachel, planning this life that they have now. This life that Kurt loves, most of the time.

He stretches out on the bend, one hand resting on his stomach, and gives in to the fact that his mind isn't going to stop. He thinks so long and hard that in the end he has a new resolve: take the good, leave the bad. And there was some good - there was a silver lining, there is something for him to think back on and smile over.

Because before - for a few minutes, a few wonderful minutes - he thinks Blaine was flirting.

Kurt's not dumb. He knows what flirting is. Just because he might not be the most openly flirtatious person ever doesn't mean he's blind to it.

Blaine was flirting with him, and Blaine was in a gay club on a Friday night, and Kurt doesn't want to make the comedic mistake of making wrong assumptions but since he has absolutely on intention of ever seeing Blaine Anderson again, he decides to just enjoy that for one precious moment his jerk-off fantasies might have actually had slightly better odds of becoming reality.

It's Saturday and he doesn't have to be at work until one so he sleeps in. He stays in bed, ponders what to make for breakfast and which outfit to wear, and generally just tries to regain his peace of mind after the night before had shattered it.

Rachel knocks on his door just as Kurt is beginning to convince himself he should get up and start to get ready. "I have breakfast," her voice calls out, bright and cheery - too cheery.

Kurt runs his fingers through his hair (not that it matters, since living together Rachel has officially been inducted into the narrow lineup of people allowed to see Kurt Hummel with bedhead) and says, "Come in!"

Rachel's version of breakfast is pastries from the shop down the street. "How are you feeling?" She asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting his knee.

His eyes narrow at her as he reaches for one of the pastries. "Why would I be feeling anything but glorious on this lovely Saturday morning?"

"Because-" She hesitates, but his slight widening of the eyes and nod prompt her to go on. "Because last night when I was leaving I - I ran into someone. Outside. Who was looking for you."

"Ohgodno," Kurt says, all in a rush.

"Why didn't you TELL me you were going there to meet him?" She looks torn between being upset and being excited.

"Because I wasn't, now Rachel, what did you say to him?"

"He remembered me from the spa, and he said he was talking to you and you ran off. Kurt, what happened?"

"Nothing, I just - nothing. I realized I... wasn't interested."

"Liar," she shoots back. "You were so interested. And so he is. He felt awful, he thought he'd done something to make you hate him! I told him that simply couldn't be true, and I-"

She stops, suddenly looking guilty. That just solidifies the lump in Kurt's stomach. "Rachel, what did you do?"

"I might have given him your number, all right, I'm sorry, please don't hate me, Kurt, I was drunk, and you get so lonely sometimes and I just hate seing you like that-"

"I'm not lonely, Rachel!" Kurt's voice raises and he drops the pastry back down onto the plate. "I have so many friends, why do I seem lonely to you?"

"You have - friends! Not anything else!"

"I don't need anything else! I have a very full schedule as it is, there's no time for anyone else!" He puts the same emphasis on the words that she had. His voice continues to rise until he's shouting at her by the end. "I'm fine, Rachel, and I really do not appreciate you giving my number out to just anyone who happens to walk by that you think might be good for me!"

Rachel cowers, blinking back wetness from her eyes, always so quick to tears but New York has given her a confidence she didn't have before and she doesn't back down quite so quickly. "You are lonely, Kurt. And I do worry about you. I'm sorry, maybe sharing your number was overstepping, and I won't do it again but we've been here for a year and you just seem to isolate yourself more and more lately and this was the first person you'd shown any real interest in in so ilong/I... look, once we're both famous Broadway stars, our hectic schedules probably won't even leave time for romantic entanglements, so now is when we both need to... live a little. I'm having ifun/i here, Kurt, and I want that for you, too."

Kurt's anger deflates because the damning thing about Rachel is how sincere she is and how she really means everything she does.

He can't just let her off the hook that easily, though, so he says, "I'm still mad at you," as he reaches for his pastry again.

His afternoon is a long blur of mochas and frappes and venti half-caf non-fat caramel lattes. He's getting decent tips, though, and not one customer has bitched about a single thing, and he actually finds it almost comforting to lose himself in the routine of making drinks, ringing people up, smiling and telling them to have a nice day.

He's lost himself in it so much that he almost drops the medium drip he's just poured when he looks up and finds himself staring into the sheepish eyes of Blaine Anderson.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is a mix of shock and demand.

"Uh, last night - I ran into your friend Rachel, did she tell you?" Blaine looks a little worse for wear - hungover, Kurt's mind fills in - but still distressingly delicious even when green around the gills. He doesn't look like he's shaved and he's wearing a red cardigan over a t-shirt and jeans, faint hints of how he'd been decked out the night before. It's messy, and sloppy isn't usually Kurt's style, but he's apparently less picky when boy in question is standing a foot in front of him.

"She did," Kurt says, stepping back over to the register to ring up the order. "She said she gave you my number, for which I feel driven to apologize since you probably didn't even ask for it. I'm guessing she told you where I work, too? That Rachel, such a chatty little thing once she's had a few."

"But I did," Blaine blurts out, and his cheeks turn a little pink. "I mean, I did ask for it. I just felt bad, you know? I'm not sure why you took off like that, but... I wanted to... apologize."

He shrugs helplessly, clearly having no idea where to take the sentence.

Kurt sighs and has pity on him. "It wasn't you, okay? Or your friends. I was just tired and ready to leave. So your conscience can be cleared, and it'll be $2.14."

Blaine doesn't believe him, but he also doesn't argue. He digs into his pocket for a crumpled five and hands it to Kurt. "Are you sure?"

"Why does it matter?" Kurt asks, ringing him up. He has to stare down at the change drawer for a few seconds because fuck, he really can't concentrate while having this conversation. He's glad no one is in line behind Blaine right now. "Why do you care?"

"Because I-" Blaine stops, frowning. "I don't know, I just do. Maybe it's an ego thing."

"What, guys don't typically walk away from you?" Kurt's mouth is definitely running away from him but at this point he figures he honestly has nothing to lose.

"I didn't mean it like that." Blaine rolls his eyes. "I don't even usually put myself in a position where guys have the option of running away, and oh god that makes me sound like some sort of date rapist or something, I just mean I don't go places like that club a lot. I was only there because my buddy Wes decided it would be a great place for a birthday party, okay? He's not even gay, he just likes that guys buy him drinks there."

Kurt tries not to gawk at the first clear admission from Blaine that he is indeed gay. His brain tries to comb through the barrage of words that have just come pouring out of Blaine's mouth, trying to make sense of it and trying not to find it too adorable that Blaine actually seems... nervous.

Somehow, that makes Kurt feel better. "I have to work," he says, because the door has just opened and a throng of teenage girls that always have coffee orders at least five words long is about to descend. He really doesn't need any more complaints on his record, not after getting reprimanded for offering unsolicited fashion advice... more than once.

Blaine doesn't make a quick exit though. Instead he just stands there, fidgeting with the coffee cup that he hasn't even taken a drink from yet. "What time is your shift over? I could come back."

"You're persistent, aren't you?" Kurt is a little bit amused now, a little bit charmed, and a whole lot blown away.

Blaine grins. "I am. And you're interesting, Kurt. You're... some sort of mystery. I like mysteries."

"I hope that doesn't mean you want to bring along the whole Scooby gang," Kurt shoots back.

Blaine holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just me. I promise. Although they're not that bad - you know, theater kids, they just have no sense of personal space."

The personal space comment makes Kurt's stomach clench a bit because Blaine obviously does have some idea of what made Kurt leave, but it's not surprising. He doesn't think he was exactly subtle. Or maybe Rachel told him - she's never called him on it either, but maybe she can be a little more sensitive than he'd though.

The girls aren't approaching the counter yet... and when Kurt glances over to see if they're still deliberating orders he realizes that they've kept a distance because they're checking out Blaine's ass now. They're checking him out and whispering to each other and Blaine is perfectly oblivious and just standing there iwaiting/I and Kurt is a whole lot braver in the light of day so just nods. "I'm off at seven."

"Great!" Blaine's face lights up. "We can grab dinner, maybe?"

"Not a date," Kurt says, instantly.

Blaine just shrugs, taking it in stride, smile undimmed. "Cool. Perfect. I'll be back then.


	4. Chapter 4

He knows if he talks to anyone - especially Rachel - that he'll end up backing out of this. He knows that in the face of blinding enthusiasm, he'll buckle, he'll cower, he'll pull his usual aloof distanced act and something that could be good will turn into another tick in his 'road to nowhere' column.

So he just throws himself into work, glad for the afternoon rush, and tries to avoid looking at the clock.

At five til seven Blaine shows back up.

"That's not fair," Kurt says, because Blaine has definitely put his afternoon to good use.

"What?" Blaine feigns innocence even though it's obvious that he's showered and shaved and dressed for the occasion despite Kurt being very clear what kind of occasion it wasn't.

He looks... he looks ridiculously good and Kurt is suddenly mortified that he smells like coffee and there's a smudged stain from a caramel dripping on his right sleeve and his outfit - it's not like it's bad, because he wouldn't leave his house in the morning looking anything less than good, but it's casual-good, not impress-a-guy-good.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, jarring Kurt out of his thoughts.

"Where are we going?" He asks.

Blaine shrugs. "Dinner, maybe? Is that too date-like? I would say coffee, but..." He gestures around him. "Wasn't sure if that's exactly something you want to enjoy in your free time, too."

"Dinner's fine," he says, voice tight.

Blaine doesn't move, though. He looks troubled, looking Kurt over. "Look... if you don't want to do this- it's fine. You can just tell me to get lost, I'll forget Rachel ever gave me your number."

Kurt looks Blaine in the eye and it's obvious he means it - but that he's not happy about it. "No... no, I am hungry."

He's not. He's really not. He's nervous to the point of feeling ill, but he hates that look on Blaine's face, hates putting it there - and it's worth it for the smile he gets. "Great. I know a good place nearby, do you like Thai?"

"Yeah. Give me about five minutes to lock up here, okay? I - you have to wait outside."

"No problem." Blaine bounces - actually bounces - and heads outside to wait.

As soon as Blaine's out of his line of vision, Kurt runs into the bathroom. He tries his best to scrub at the stain, fixes his hair, wishes he'd bought a change of clothes... not that he ever does. It's only a ten minute walk from his apartment, and he could ask Blaine to walk back with him-

-but judging from her texts, Rachel is home, and he's not prepared to deal with that awkward of a moment right now. He has no idea what Rachel said, no idea how long they talked, and she's... Rachel.

No, that would be a bad idea. The worst of ideas.

And this isn't a date anyway, so maybe it's better that he looks like he didn't put too much effort in. Maybe Blaine will be so nauseated by the smell of coffee that by the end of the night he won't be able to get away fast enough - which wouldn't make Kurt happy, not at all, but would be sort of a relief.

They walk side by side, not speaking. Kurt hasn't asked the name of the place, though if it's this close he's probably been there before.

It's cool now, the temperature dropping steadily, and Kurt thinks by the end of the night he'll wish he had a heavier jacket but for now it's fine.

Blaine starts to hum after a minute, a tune that takes Kurt only a few seconds to place. He tilts his head toward Blaine and lifts an eyebrow.

Blaine just grins back and hums louder.

"So you were in Glee," he says.

Kurt groans. "This is not fair. I have no idea how much you know about me!"

"Aw, it's okay." Blaine leans in and bumps his shoulder against Kurt, a small gesture that makes Kurt's breath catch a little. "If you want to know anything about me, all you have to do is ask. I am an open book."

"Have you been drinking?" Kurt gives him a suspicious look.

Blaine just laughs. "No. I swear. I'm just trying to make you laugh. Trying and... failing."

"So how drunk were you last night?"

"Not that drunk," he says, sounding a little defensive. "I'd had a few, okay, but it wasn't like that. I was barely even hung over this morning."

"How drunk was _Rachel_?"

Blaine laughs. "Now that I can't really attest to. I mean, I've seen her for about five seconds sober, so I have on idea how much of that is just her and how much was the drinking. Stop worrying about it though - I promise, she told me nothing but good things. This is the place."

It's a little restaurant Kurt has passed a few dozen times in his year in New York, but never been into. Blaine holds the door open and Kurt steps inside, shying away so they don't accidentally brush. He doesn't see Blaine's eyes lingering on him, the frown that flickers over Blaine's face.

"So," Blaine says, once they're inside and seated. "Seriously, I mean it. I do have you at an unfair advantage so... if you want to know anything, just ask."

"What did she tell you about me?" Kurt says. "Just so I know how unfair of an advantage it is."

"Okay, that's fair..." Blaine muses for a moment. "Your name is Kurt - okay, I already knew that. That you're gay, you're single, you share an apartment with her, where you go to school, where you work..."

"Oh, God," Kurt covers his face with his hands. "Did she give you my shoe size and high school GPA, too?"

"It's not like I wasn't asking," Blaine says, reaching out. His fingers close around Kurt's wrist and he tugs a hand away. He only holds the grasp for a few seconds and then lets go. "I wanted to know."

"Why?"

"Because you're..." Blaine seems flustered for the first time, ducking his head down and then looking back up at Kurt. "This is kind of deep for a not-date."

"And that's kind of an obvious avoidance tactic."

"Yep," Blaine grins at him and Kurt just can't help it, he laughs. "Tell you what, you decide this is a date and I'll answer it."

Kurt swallows. "Fine."

"Fine, it's..." Blaine leaves it open, looking surprised.

"Fine, I'll tell you if I change my mind."

The grin intensifies. "Good enough for me," he says. "For now."

It's not actually as bad as Kurt had thought. Blaine really does want to make him laugh - he's taking every obvious one-liner that presents itself and after a while the groans turn to chuckles.

He lets Blaine suggest something to order, and finds that he loves the food. It's not the sort of fare he'd cook for himself - or pick for himself - but it's good. It's a new experience.

"So, Kurt," Blaine says, and then he licks a bit of sauce off of his bottom lip in a way that Kurt tries very hard not to be distracted by. "I'm still an open book."

This time Kurt decides to bite. "Fine, I'll start with... how old are you?"

"Nineteen. I turned nineteen last month."

"What?" Kurt almost drops his fork. "You're younger than me?"

Blaine shrugs. "Do I look older?" He looks like he sort of likes the idea of that, a bit smug.

"No, you just - you've got a job. Like, a real job, not one in the part time food service industry. Are you in school?"

"I did a year course to get certified for the massage thing," Blaine says. "I... found myself in a position where school wasn't really an option, not like I'd sort of assumed it would be my entire life. My buddy Wes was moving to New York and he let me couch crash while I got my stuff together. I took out a loan for the certification program and I was really lucky to snag this job not long after I got certified. I want to go back to school, but I need to save up some money first."

Kurt obviously wants to know more, but he doesn't pry. "So, if relieving people of stress isn't your true calling, what is?"

"I picked massage because it paid well, and it seemed like something I could do. I like it - I could even be happy doing it for a while, I think. But calling? Not exactly." Blaine shrugs. "I don't even know, really. I was going to study law, but now... the field is wide open. I guess... I'd kind of like to teach music? Maybe something like that. But it'll be a couple of years before I can."

"I can't believe you're younger than me," Kurt says, still marveling over it. "So you said you moved here - where are you from?"

"Midwest. My parents moved around a little... they kept trying to find the 'right' school for me. I actually lived in Ohio for about six months - I went to a school there... but then my dad thought better of sending me to an all boys school." Blaine grimaces, trying to play it off.

Kurt doesn't let him off the hook. "What do you mean?"

"My dad wasn't exactly okay with me being okay. Isn't... okay. I had an incident in ninth grade at the public school I was at, I kind of got - well, I got my ass kicked, to be honest."

"Because you were gay?" Kurt feels cold all over just thinking about it.

"I hadn't come out to my parents before that, somehow I thought it would never get back to him - I don't know, I was kind of dumb, I guess. But they found out why and pulled me out of the school... they tried, I guess they were trying? To be understanding, but they sent me to a different public school and I met a guy there... I mean, nothing even really happened, we kissed like - once, in my kitchen. But my mom walked in and hey, next thing I know, we're moving again. Then Dalton-"

"I know that school!" Kurt says, surprised.

Blaine's face lights up. "Yeah, Wes went there for all of high school. I was only there for one semester but we kept in touch. He's a great guy. So after that my dad made me finish out junior and senior year at this religious boarding school. It was nuts. Once I hit 18, I just split. I couldn't handle it anymore. I told my folks I was moving to New York with Wes and my dad lost it. I mean, Wes is straight! It's not even how they thought it was, but it's so ridiculous. I didn't even bother to tell them - because I might, one day, you know? I might want to move in with a guy and it might be more than just a friend. But he flipped out and said that if I wanted to live that kind of lifestyle, I wouldn't do it on his dime. So I So... there's my life story. You officially know way, way more about me than I know about you."

"I was bullied," Kurt blurts out. Not to even the field, but just because after hearing all of that, hearing that slightly raw tone to Blaine's voice even though he's trying to make it with humor and casualness, it still shakes something inside of Kurt. "My dad was great - he's the best- well, he's he tries the hardest. He never wanted a son like me, but he changed - for me. The rest of the the world wasn't quite so accommodating. I was the only out kid at my school, and it was... awful."

Blaine's hand reaches over the table and covers Kurt. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. Your teachers didn't really do anything? The kids that beat me up got expelled, at least."

Kurt doesn't respond, can't bring himself to say that it wasn't being slammed against a locker, wasn't the bruises and threats, that really fucked him up. It was the hands grabbing him, the mouth wet and slimy on his, the tongue prying itself into his mouth that left him feeling sick and used.

In his mind, he knows; he knows what all the pamphlets would say. Don't blame yourself. You're a victim; you didn't ask for it. But Kurt knows somehow, he did - just by being himself, he brought it on.

Sometimes he convinces himself that he just should feel sorry for Karofsky, because bullies usually bully for a reason. Karofsky's gay; the hard on rubbing against his ass as he was shoved into the locker room was enough proof of that. Karofsky was gay and he hated it, hated the world for what he wanted, and hated Kurt for having it on display. There was something in him that Karofsky wanted and he took it. I

When he thinks of Karofsky, he finds himself wanting more than anything for Karofsky to stop hating who he is - not for Dave's sake, but so that as he gets older he doesn't find some other man smaller and weaker and take the hatred out on him.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, and Kurt realizes that Blaine has just let him be silent for who knows how long. His hand is still on Kurt's, warm and squeezing slightly, and Kurt surprises them both by squeezing back. He's not at all hungry anymore, and it's like Blaine can read his mind because he signals the water to get their check. "Come on, we can go for a walk."

Kurt finds himself wishing Blaine would take his hand again, but Blaine doesn't. He doesn't even walk too close; close enough that it's obvious that they're walking together, but their shoulders don't brush anymore.

"So if Rachel gave you my number, why didn't you just send me a message?" He asks.

"I had nothing else to do?" Blaine says, looking over at Kurt. "No, that's a lie. I just... I don't know. I feel like whatever I say is gonna make you take off."

"Well, I guess I earned that." Kurt rolls his eyes. "I hereby promise that I will not just take off."

"Well, I wanted to see you. I mean - last night you seemed kind of... receptive. But I didn't know if I was just imagining it because that's what I wanted. So I thought if I came in... not that it cleared a whole lot up. You're kind of hard to read, Kurt. Or maybe I'm just really bad at reading people."

Kurt really has no clue what to say, and he really does just want to leave but he keeps his word and he stays. He stops walking, just stands there looking at Blaine.

"You can go if you want," Blaine says, like he can read Kurt's mind or something.

"No, I don't," Kurt says. Blaine's face falls and Kurt thinks he's probably not being clear so he adds, "I don't want to leave, I mean. You are confusing the hell out of me, but I don't want to leave. You're interesting, Blaine Anderson."

"Well, good. Good." Blaine rocks back and forth on his feet a little, looking pleased. "You look cold. Are you cold? Come on... I know a great coffee shop, I'll buy you something warm."

"I swear if you take me to-"

"Not the one you work at, I promise. Trust me." And then Blaine turns his face toward Kurt again and gives him a little smile and Kurt's stomach starts to flop and he really starts to realize exactly how dangerous being around this boy is


End file.
